


Blood of The Dragon

by SeijuroRaizel



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Beyond the Walls, Blood and Violence, Dark Jon Snow, Dothraki, Essos, F/M, Jon Snow Knows Something, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Protective Ned Stark, R Plus L Equals J
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:41:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26701594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeijuroRaizel/pseuds/SeijuroRaizel
Summary: Ned Stark stormed out of King’s Landing after a disagreement with new King Robert Baratheon, to the last battle of the rebellion and to find his sister, only to promise his sister to protect her son.After his nephew became seven name dyes, he shows that he’s true to his lineage. To keep him safe from those who want him dead and to prevents the inevitable clash between his nephew and his wife, Ned decides the best way is to make Jon travel through the north.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 42
Kudos: 131





	1. A Love That Endures Through All

**Author's Note:**

> So, this my first fic.  
> there was another idea in my head when out of nowhere this fic's idea popped up in my head, and here we are the first chapter.  
> I found that Brom is very much similar to how Ser Gerold Hightower was described in the books, so I added him. You can imagine Gerold in your mind.  
> When I read a fic, there must be some music to hear. I recommend (The tower- Game of thrones) and (Game of Thrones Music & North Ambience _ Winterfell - House Stark Theme_HD) Stark themes always sad, which is fitting for this chapter. try it!
> 
> Tell me what you think in the comments after reading.  
> I hope you enjoy it!

_**“A mother's love endures through all”** _

**Washington Irving**

It's almost noon. The sun is vertical over their heads, incendiary, unbearable, causing mirages everywhere he turns to. And he wished he had taken the advice and wore a piece of cloth or a rag over his head and around his face.

The region is rocky, mountainous, arid and dry, and features the only desert on the continent. There is no sound around them -beside the sounds of their horses' drawn and hoofs hitting the sand- except the sound of the wind carrying the dust and soft sand from one place and throwing it elsewhere.

Another reason to bring a rag and put it around his face.

They didn’t know where they were, or how much more it will take to reach their destination. They ran out of supplies a few days ago, it's not like they took too much with them before they set off in a hurry. Now they were dependent on what they find around them from snakes or anything else that is expendable.

All this proved one thing to Eddard; Stark men weren’t created to live in Dorne and its deserts.

He longed to stand on great gray walls, the cold breeze caressing his face, and soothing his soul, that wind that blows from the seas and then passes over the towering northern mountains, carrying the smell of trees of the Wolfswood, made up of oak, sentinels, soldier pines and black brier and many others trees. The sound of wolfs howling could be heard from far distance.

He closed his eyes and thought of all that and more, of him with his brothers playing with swords and running, his father looking at them from the balcony over the courtyard, Lyanna riding her white horse and showing off, her hair flying behind her, a winter rose through her dark brown hair and smiling. _Like a Winter Queen._

He could feel himself there _,_ his heart yearning and aching to be _there_.

A harsh gust of hot wind carrying dust with it snapped him from his daydream. And he realized that can’t be. His father is dead, burned by wildfire. His older brother placed in a strangle device from Tyrosh, choking himself to death trying to reach a sword to free their father, in an attempt that was destined to failure from the beginning. His other brother all the way north holding Winterfell on his behalf. And his little sister is somewhere there ahead of him; he was only hoping he will save her before it’s too late.

The thought of his sister made his gilt creep to the surface and his blood to boil. Ned wasn’t a hot-blooded. He wasn’t like Brandon or sometimes Lyanna when they got angered for a reason or another. His father Lord Rickard called it “the wolf blood”. But when he witnessed what the Lannister did in King’s Landing, stabbing Rhaegar’s three years old daughter Rhaenys, crushing baby Aegon’s head on the wall before his mother Princess, Elia Martell, and then raping and brutally killing her. He was outraged.

It was the first time he saw himself like Brandon or Lyanna, it was the first time he felt “the wolf blood” in his veins. And when he demanded them to be tried for these crimes, Robert wavered him away and said “I see no babes. Only dragonspawn”. No one was able to calm the storm. Eddard Stark had ridden out that very day in a cold rage. To the last battle of the rebellion. Storm’s End.

Since that day, Ned’s been critiquing himself for what he thought about the person he thought was like his brother. He thought Robert was good. A man who is able to distinguish between right and wrong and make the decision that honor requires. That's why Ned thought Robert would become loyal to his younger sister when he married her. He argued his sister when confronted him with her reasons for her refusal.

But, in every camp they set up as they marched to fight during the Rebellion, Robert found his way to whores and inn’s wenches or camp followers. The first seed of doubt he got, and his _friend_ wasn't stingy in watering it until it got where it's now.

 _Lyanna was right_. He thought. Ned still remembered her words from that fateful night. _“Robert will never keep to one bed,”_ Lyanna had let him know at Winterfell, on the night long prior when their father had guaranteed her hand to the young Lord of Storm’s End. _“I hear he has gotten a child on some girl in the Vale.”_ Ned had held the girl in his arms; he could barely deny her, nor would he lie to his sister, yet he had tried to comfort her that what Robert did before their betrothal was of regardless, that he was a decent man and genuine who would cherish her with everything that he got in himself. Lyanna had just smiled. _“Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man’s nature.”_

After he saw how Robert acted while he claimed he's battling for her, what happened in King’s Landing, Ned tilted his head down and felt ashamed. What sort of life he was getting his sister into?

Ned set his mind, he’s going to save his sister and take her back north, to where she belongs, where _they_ belong, their home, Winterfell. He’ll make it up to her, _he promised_.

**______________________________________**

Ned held his sister’s body firmly to his chest, tears running down his eyes, still repeating the words, “I promise” or “I’m sorry” he mumbled, over and over again. He doesn’t know how much time he had been in this way. From the fading light that was coming from the windows of the tower, the sun is nearly sinking beyond the mountains behind the tower walls. It was probably hours since he sprinted on those stairs outside, but he didn’t care.

He failed her.

He didn’t get to her in the time she needed him the most. He didn’t keep his promise, and now he lost another one of his family.

The door flew open, and he heard heavy footsteps behind him. With a deep voice, filled with sorrow, the Kingsguard spoke to him. “It’s time, Lord Stark,” Ned looked over his shoulder to see the man still wearing his armor as if he was waiting to fight at any moment. “We can’t stay anymore, we don’t know if there is someone following you or not, and it’s not safe for the boy,” and then he depend his head as if what he’s going to say was hard for him, “The tower must be burned. There should be no signs left.”

_ A few hours ago. _

_They passed Nightsong in the evening yesterday while going more south. Now on the North End of the Prince's Pass, Ned can see the edge of the Red Mountains of Dorne._

_His friends rode with him. All northern. Some were Brandon’s friends. Ethan Glover who had been his brother's squire, and the only one of Brandon’s party who survived the Mad king’s justice. And some Lyanna’s, the crannogman, Howland Reed. Proud Martyn Cassel. Ser Mark Ryswell, soft of speech and gentle of heart; Lord Dustin on his great red stallion; faithful Theo Wull._

_Ned took only those he trusted the most. As the hooded man instructed him back then after he lifted the siege on Storm’s End. The man handed him a parchment and didn’t say another word. Disappearing into the sea of soldiers and servants in the camp._

_Finally, a round tower appeared on the horizon in front of them. The tower was built on a huge rock on a hill rising from the rest of the ground around it. It was made of gray stones and is twenty feet high, its roof was brick. It looked old. Not that he expected Rhaegar to construct a palace analogous the Water Gardens to lock Lyanna in it after kidnapping her._

_Ned couldn't hold himself. He tightened his hand on the rein and urged his horse and companions into galloping. A little more and I can have her in my arms. He thought._

_When they got down the hill, he could make the shapes of three men donning armors._

_So they were seven, facing three._

_Yet these were no ordinary three. They waited before the round tower, the red mountains of Dorne at their backs, their white cloaks blowing in the wind. Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, had a sad smile on his lips. The hilt of the greatsword Dawn poked up over his right shoulder. Ser Oswell Whent was on one knee, sharpening his blade with a whetstone. Across his whiteenameled helm, the black bat of his House spread its wings. Between them stood fierce old Ser Gerold Hightower, the White Bull, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard._

_“I looked for you on the Trident,” Ned said to them._

_“We were not there,” Ser Gerold answered._

_“Woe to the Usurper if we had been,” said Ser Oswell._

_“When King’s Landing fell, your brother, Ser Jaime slew your king with a golden sword. I wondered where you were.”_

_“Far away,” Ser Gerold said, “or Aerys would yet sit the Iron Throne, and our false brother would burn in seven hells.”_

_“I came down on Storm’s End to lift the siege,” Ned told them, “and the Lords Tyrell and Redwyne dipped their banners, and all their knights bent the knee to pledge fealty. I was certain you would be among them.”_

_“Our knees do not bend easily,” said Ser Arthur Dayne._

_“Ser Willem Darry has fled to Dragonstone, with your queen and Prince Viserys. I thought you might have sailed with him.”_

_“Ser Willem is a good man and true,” said Ser Oswell._

_“But not of the Kingsguard,” Ser Gerold pointed out, raising his head proudly. “The Kingsguard does not flee.”_

_“Then or now,” said Ser Arthur._

_“We swore a vow,” explained old Ser Gerold._

_“Then why you weren’t there to protect your prince?” Ned asked._

_“Our prince wanted us here” replied Ser Arthur._

_“The mad king is dead. Rhaegar is dead. You have no King” Ned tightened his hold on the sword’s hilt._

_Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, unsheathed Dawn and held it with both hands. The blade was pale as milkglass, alive with light. “I wish you good fortune in the wars to come, Lord Stark.” He still has his sad smile on his face, “and now it begins.”_

_There was a movement at the top of the tower; he looked up there to see a man holding a sword and longbow at his back._

_Ned’s companions moved up beside him, with swords in hands. They were seven against four. It was going to be a hard fight. One he most likely won’t survive. But nothing will stand between him and his little sister._

_Before Ned could deny the Kingsguard words, there was a scream, and he wiped his eyes to the tower. “Eddard!” Lyanna called screaming._

_“What did you do to my sister?” Ned asked, looking angrily at the three men in front of him._

_Surprisingly, Ser Arthur impaled Dawn in the ground before him, “leave your sword behind and come with me. Your sister wants to see you”_

_He threw his sword and would’ve sprinted if not for the hand around his wrist. He looked to Howland who shook his head._

_“Why should we trust you wouldn’t kill him after?”_

_Ser Oswell Whent snorted._

_“You have my word as a knight of the Kingsguard,” answered Ser Arthur. “Nothing will come to him.”_

_Ser Arthur turned and walked to the tower’s stairs. He gave Howland a nod and went after the man._

_Before he got to the room, he could smell blood and roses. When he entered, he looked around, searching for Lyanna. And Ned felt his heart squeezing inside his chest when he saw her. Lying in a bed, so much blood-stained that the blood was dripping from the bed mattress._

_She called for him, and Ned was running to her before he knew. He knelt beside the bed._

_“Is that you?” She asked with a tired voice. “Is that really you?” He held her hand in his, and she was cold, very cold for the heat of the room. “You aren’t a dream?”_

_“No, I’m not a dream,” he assured her and was on brink of crying. She looked weak, and he didn’t see Lyanna weak before. “I’m here, Right here.”_

_“I’ve missed you, big brother.”_

_“I’ve missed you, too.” He caressed her hair, but he was trembling._

_She swallowed hard. “I want to be brave,” she told him, voice wavering._

_“You’re,” choking on the words, and his hand full of blood._

_“I’m not,” she said crying._

_“Shh.” He snapped to the maid, “Get her some water!”_

_“No, no water”_

_“Is there a maester?”_

_“Listen to me, Ned” she pleaded, putting her hand on his face and pulling him to her._

_Ned leaned to her. “His name is Aegon Targaryen,” she whispered, and he felt the blood frizzing in his veins._

_“If Robert finds out, he’ll k—l him. You know he woul-“and he knew she was true. He saw it himself. “I curse him for what he did. I curse him for taking me and Rhaegar from our son.”_

_“You’ve to protect him,” her voice hitched, “promise me, Ned. Promise me” she begged, crying, and her voice had been faint as a whisper._

_The maid came to him holding a bundle of cloth, and he heard the cry for the first time. He looked at the child wrapped in the bundle and then at Lyanna, and she was smiling staring at her son._

_“Promise me,” she begged him again._

_“I promise,” he told her while tears running down his eyes. But determined to keep his word to her, and he saw the fear had gone out of his sister’s eyes. Ned saw the way she smiled then, and for a moment, everything seemed fine, then she tightened her fingers and clutched his as she gave up her hold on life, the rose petals spilling from her palm, dead and black._

Eddard gazed hollow at the Kingsguard. He came here with the notion that whatever men were keeping Lyanna in this tower, were his enemies. That he will have to go through them to get to his sister.

From all places he expected to face the three Kingsguard, he couldn’t have thought he will find them _here_. Not keeping his sister as a prisoner or a kidnapped woman, but protecting her. And why would he have thought Rhaegar had left his best Kingsguard with the woman he raped and not with his family?

Unless he hadn't kidnapped her or raped her in the first place. He was proved a fool to himself for the second time in a short span of days. He would’ve laughed if not for his sister’s cold and blooded body against him.

They were all fools! Believing that a man, any man, has the power to kidnap Lyanna and get away with his life, let alone rape her. She would tear that man apart or kill herself before letting anyone to get her by force.

“And where are you going to?” Ned asked with hoarse voice.

“You say where we are going to. You’re the one who promised, the princess chose you as regent.” He said, violet eyes looking straightly to Ned’s gray ones, and Ned knew he was waiting to see how he’s going to act after been giving the choice.

But Ned had enough; he **_will not_** lose another member of his family. He won't make any more mistakes. He will keep his promise to Lyanna no matter the cost.

He cleared his throat, still hugging Lyanna to him, “Where is he? Is he asleep?” he didn’t have the chance to see the boy closely, didn’t even hear the boy crying, which was odd, he knew from Benjen’s birth and other infants that they cry after being delivered. Suddenly his heart gave a bang from the fear that the boy isn’t healthy, or worse, dead.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long to get his answer as the maid came from behind Ser Arthur carrying the boy in her arms _. His name is Aegon Targaryen._ He remembered.

The other two Kingsguard, Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell came behind her, tilting their heads when their gaze landed on him holding Lyanna.

“We are going back north, to Winterfell,” he looked at his sister. Lyanna was dead now, but her son is still alive, and he will take them north, to their home.

His gaze went back to Kingsguard, “You must die,” he said, and all three looked at him narrowing their eyes in subspecies. “Don’t get me wrong. I meant the realm must think you dead. Robert will be restless until he finds you and kill every loyalist to the Targaryen or bend them, I don’t think you would choose either,” He explained, “You must disappear for a time. No trace.”

His anger returned him; thinking about a stag mad with his fury, and lions without honor, “This is also for the boy’s sake. I witnessed as the Lannisters brought his brother and sister’s body wrapped in their banners. I _will not_ risk my nephew’s life for anything. I **_will not_ **allow him his siblings’ fate.”

The three men were shaking with _rage_ , “you are right,” said Ser Gerold through gritted teeth. “We shall have justice one day, but we must live to perform our duty. The _King_ must live”

A shiver run down Ned’s spine, for what he’s doing, what he’s going to do will be betrayal to the man he considered as his closest friend. But his family comes above all else. 

Ser Arthur nodded his head along with Ser Oswell.

“What are you going to do with the boy?” said Arthur, “People will ask,” he told him.

He nodded. “Aye they will and they shall get their answer,” he murmured and they looked confused. “I will tell them he’s my son.”

“Surely you don’t mea—“

“There is nothing better I can do,” he said interrupting Ser Oswell who was as red as the mountains outside the tower.

“We can take him with us, we will protect him from any danger he might face” proclaimed Ser Oswell.

“Pray tell where this place you are going to?” he retorted sharply, when the knight went to talk again, he told him “you don’t know where to go, and what if someone recognize one of you? What if he caught sickness? How are you going to treat him? How are you going to give him a wet nurse?”

“He is right, Oswell. Protection is not everything he needs.”

Ser Oswell just huffed, annoyed. 

“You had a wife, Lord Stark,” Arthur pointed out, “she will treat the child poorly or worse.”

“And I said I won’t let anything nor anyone harm him!” Ned rumbled, not having the ability or patience to argue.

“What about your companion outside,” said Ser Gerold, gesturing to the windows.

“They are all loyal to me and were friends of Lyanna. I will make them swear on the Old Gods to keep secrecy” he said.

“Not good enough, they must swear to protect him with their life” demanded Ser Oswell, with scowling face.

Ned just nodded, seeing the knight was overprotective of his nephew, and understanding the benefit of what he demanded.

“Now.” He looked confused at Ser Arthur. “They swear it now, as I told you, no one knows what is coming.”

Ned hesitated, not wanting to leave his sister. Then he looked down at Lyanna. She was so peaceful he thought she was asleep and if he called for her, she will open her eyes and smile at him. He leaned down and kissed her on her forehead, and whispered “I won’t let you down this time. I will keep my promise until the day I see you again.” He kissed her once more on her temple and eased her to the mattress.

Ned stood and went to the maid, stretching his arms to her. She placed the child on his arms and he clasped him to his chest and turned to one of the windows.

He examined his nephew on the sunset light shredding from the window, he was a tiny thing, small even for a newborn baby, he had a dark brown wispy hair on top of his head, and Ned thanked the god for it. But when he opened his eyes, Ned stared in wonder. They were dark, very dark. And if not for the fading light he would have thought them black. But in the sun’s light, they were stormy gray, Like Lyanna’s, he thought. Darker than his ones, around the pupil, they were a dark shade of violet, indigo Ned realized. He had never seen the like of them before.

His nephew looked at him curiously, and he couldn’t help but smile at him. “Hello, Aegon.” The name was foreign for him, but he’ll get used to it, and somehow, he thought it fitted the child.

He will have to find another name for him, his true name a stark intimation of his identity. 

“What did the princess name him?” said the Lord Commander, nodding to his nephew.

“She named him Aegon, Aegon Targaryen,” Ned answered.

All three men smiled proudly.

“For his brother,” said Ser Gerold.

“It sounds like something she would do,” lamented Ser Arthur, voice full of sadness, and Ned wondered how his sister’s relationship with these men was, and how close she was with them? Knowing her, and considering all the time she lived here, she probably befriended the three of them.

“A fitting name for a King,” said Ser Oswell, the other two nodding in agreement.

“I need to know what happened from the day Lyanna disappeared, to this moment,” he told them, “with details,” he added.

The three knights told him everything they knew; from the day Rhaegar met Lyanna for the first time. He was shocked when Arthur said that they first met in Wolfswood while Rhaegar was traveling north to the Wall, to meet his great uncle who served as a maester at Castel Black. But neither knew who the other was at the time.

Then how the two crossed paths again at Harrenhal, after Aerys ordered Rhaegar to bring him the Knight of the Laughing Tree’s head. To his astonishment, they found out Lyanna was the mysterious knight.

How they met in secret a couple of times after, which lead them to fall in love with each other. Of course, he knew about crowning Lyanna as Queen of love and beauty, he was there when all smiles died except for Rhaegar and Lyanna ones, and when Robert laughed saying _“He did the right thing, only a mad will crown another in the presence of Lyanna.”_

Arthur and Oswell talked about the agreement between the two lovers to meet ten leagues away from Harrenhal. Rhaegar coming with High Septon Maynard and then wedding his sister in front of the Old Gods and under the light of the Seven.

The guilt emerged again. _If I didn’t support Robert when he wanted to betroth Lyanna, maybe she wouldn’t have run clandestinely._ He thought.

But there was something nagging at his mind.

“Why they didn’t send a messenger or raven scroll?” if they did, nothing would have come as wrong as it is now. Almost all his family dead, his nephew without father or mother, thousands of men, women, and children dead. Lyanna wasn’t selfish or that careless. He didn’t take his sister as an idiot, and Rhaegar didn’t seem a fool either.

“The princess left a message in Riverrun before she went to meet Rhaegar,” said Ser Gerold, his brows knitted.

“And we sent many ravens to Winterfell,” Ser Arthur told him, “but never got a response.”

“Impossible! I was in Winterfell to call our banners, the maester didn’t give me any scrolls” he muttered.

“Did you consider that maybe your maester wasn’t faithful?” questioned Arthur, “he may kept the scrolls from you. There is more to some of them than you think. Rhaegar always was careful of them, he trusted little.”

If it was true, then Ned would make sure the man will suffer till he craves death.

Arthur moved into a truck in the corner of the room and opened it, then pulled out something long warped in a deep red cloak with lighter wavy lines.

“These are things that belonged to Rhaegar and Lyanna, Rhaegar's diary among it. He would’ve wished for his son to have and read it.” Arthur said with a sad smile, “and when the boy comes of age, he shall get this” he continued holding the warped objective with his hands and unfolding it. It was a sword, but when he unsheathed it and came forward to stand in front of the window, Ned gasped, the blade was slender, the blades spell-forged and dark as smoke, it features distinctive rippled patterns, a fuller in the center of the blade. The rain guard was a red ruby with red eyes snarling dragon, with the guard itself as dragon wings. And a flame-like pommel. 

“Is—is that?” he asked

“Dark Sister, one of the two Valyrian steel swords of House Targaryen. Wielded by Visenya Targaryen and Aemon Targaryen, the Dragon Knight,” answered Arthur lifting the sword.

“I thought it was lost,” he whispered.

Arthur shook his head, “Somehow Rhaegar got it from his uncle at the Wall.”

“We should go down the tower so you tell your party to swear, Lord Stark,” said Lord Commander Gerold, causing Ned to back from his daze.

He nodded and went to the door, the three Kingsguard following after him.

His friends were waiting for him, confused eyes gazing toward him holding the bundle of clothes in his arms.

“Where is Lyanna?” asked the crannogman, Howland Reed.

“She is with my lord father and brother now,” he rasped.

“They killed her!” rumbled angry Martyn Cassel, unsheathing his sword.

“No,” he raised his voice, “she died giving birth to her son,” he said looking at the child.

“Because he raped her!” said Theo, doing the same as Martyn.

“No,” he denied again, “my sister and prince Rhaegar were married in eyes of the Old Gods and the New. There was no kidnapping, Lyanna went with Rhaegar willingly.”

“So you say all we fought for was a lie?” said Mark Ryswell, shaken.

“Aye, it was for nothing,” Ned replied lowering his head, and Mark fell to his knees.

“What are you going to do my lord?” asked William Dustin, “The boy has a stronger claim to the throne than anyone else; you know King Robert will kill the boy. But if you keep him, you’ll be breaking faith with the King.”

“I didn’t pledge anyone fealty,” Ned exclaimed, to the shock of his friends and the other men, “I left the city after my dispute with Robert before I bend my knees to him.”

“So you are going to raise the child’s claim?” asked Howland.

“No. He’s my nephew, my blood; I will allow no harm to come his way. For now, I’m claiming him as my son, to keep him safe” he answered. “But I will ask you to swear no soul will know about what you learned here, who you saw here. Will you swear to protect Stark’s blood even if the cost was your life?”

All six of his companion turned their swords down; they knelt in front of Eddard. “We swear it on the Old Gods, now and always,” they vowed to him.

He nodded in gratitude, “thank you, my friends.”

He turned to the other side, the Kingsguard exchanged gazes between them, and it seemed like they had come to an agreement with each other on something. The three White Cloaks unsheathed their swords, raised it high in the air, and fell on one knee;

“I, Gerold Hightower…”

“I, Arthur Dayne…”

“I, Oswell Whent…”

“Hereby swear on my honor my allegiance to protect King Aegon Targaryen, sixth of his name, and his family. I will do my duties until death, and through that time, keep all secrets of the King safe from spread. I will not speak unless spoken to, and I will defend the King's land or pay the price.”

With the last lights of the day in the horizon, the sun disappearing beyond the Red Mountains of Dorn, and the wind blowing their white cloaks in the night air, the Kingsguard uttered their vows to their new king. 


	2. A Soul Of A Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, it's here!  
> I thought it will never end.  
> I took a look at the first chapter and to my shame, there were some mistakes.  
> Hope this one is better written.
> 
> I imagen Martyn Cassel like Michael Fassbender in Centurion.
> 
> I think (The King in the North) soundtrack will be good this chapter.

**_"One doesn't need the size of a dragon to have the soul of a dragon"_ **

**Robin Hobb**

Ned watch from the balcony as the boys spared with swords in the courtyard, Martyn and his brother Rodrik standing on each side of the two boys, yelling instructions to his sons. It was a warm day in Winterfell, a summer day. The sky was covered with light clouds, making it look white. The lazy sunlight cast down at the keep.

To his right stood his Lady wife Catelyn Tully-Stark, holding one-year-old Arya in her arms, and on his other side stood his eldest daughter, Sansa, who had a bored expression on her face. As she inherited her mother's coloring, she also inherited her qualities. Even at three-name days old, Sansa possesses the traditional feminine graces of her milieu, with a keen interest in music, poetry, singing, dancing, embroidery, and other traditional feminine activities. She was the perfect example for the young Southern lady. _She's going to be a duplication of her mother,_ Ned thought.

“Hold your shield up Robb!” Rodrik exclaimed. He looked down to see Jon advancing on Robb, who was trying to get out of Jon’s reach. Jon kept throwing swings on his brother, tirelessly, all his focus on his opponent's body and movement. Robb continued to parry until Jon put his left foot behind his brother’s ankle sending him to the muddy floor. Robb lost his sword while falling, and Jon pointed his sword at the older boy’s chest.

“Yield,” said smiling Robb, lifting his hands up in a show of surrender. Jon reached to grasp his brother, helping him to his feet again.

There was a squeaky sound of teeth, Ned revolved to his right side to find his wife grimace face, her jaw twitching, and glaring down at Jon with hatred. Ned sighed, knowing he was going to have an unpleasant conversation with his wife. That's the case every time Jon overtook Robb.

It had been seven years since he returned to Winterfell with his sister’s bones and her son, claiming he was his. The journey was long, filled with sorrow and painful moments; he thought it will never end.

After burning the tower and digging the fake graves, he and the Kingsguard agreed to send a letter stating where they were waiting. But they didn’t go without having the last words. " _Lord Stark, you promised the princess and she trusted you. We will keep close eyes on the King, yet, should something occur before our return, we'll hold you accountable for what comes next"_. And so they went their way, to what forest, cave, or land they chose.

What came after was something that Ned never wanted to carry on. Telling the woman he loved of her brother's death and giving her his sword as the last thing that remained of him. When he saw how Ashara’s face cracked, the one tear that fell from her eyes before she hurried out of the room to the corridors of Starfall. He wanted to run after her, to soothe her and tell her the truth. But he couldn’t, instead, he stood there wishing earth to split and swallow him.

Ned didn’t see her again, and they rode off with the first light, not wanting to disrespect or offend the Daynes by lingering another night in their home.

Before leaving the castle, Ned sent three ravens, the first with word for High Septon Maynard to meet them in Stoney Sept. He wanted to be certain the old man wouldn't mention what he issued or witnessed.  
  
The second was for Jon Arryn in King's Landing, informing him about what took place at the tower in Dorne. Regardless of the situation with Robert, he needed the men in that blasted city to be aware of Lyanna's death and to believe the three Kingsguard perished there.  
  
The last one was to Benjen in Winterfell, telling him of their sister's death. He knew Benjen would mourn Lyanna greatly, he was the closest to her, more than even himself, they were always together while he was fostered in the Eyrie and Bran having his adventures. But there was no time for that, not before his nephew was safe within the walls of Winterfell. He instructed him to summon their banners from the south, the war was over. For now at least.  
  
They took a ship from the harbor and sailed from the Summer Sea along the coastline all the way to the Redwyne Straits, and then The Sunset Sea until they reached the Mander. Somehow, before even putting afoot at the small gallery's deck, Ned knew he didn't have _sea-legs_ as the small gallery's captain called it. There was no safe land route that time, save for the Kingsroad, and he didn't want to take the risk coming near King's Landing, and so he tolerated the rocking of the deck beneath him.

If Ned has his way, he would never again get on a vessel in the seas.  
  
The vessel gilded up the Mander, up until Bitterbridge, From there it was riding to Stoney Sept. Arriving at the town, Ned found it was still healing from what damage that has befallen it during Robber’s hiding and form Battle of the Bells. The High Septon welcomed him and his party at the sept, and then led him to what Ned assumed was the High Septon’s solar. After asking about his nephew’s wellbeing, he asked about his name. Ned told him, and Maynard smiled sadly for a moment before it vanished. _“I wasn’t in the city when the sack took place, but I knew of what happened all the same,” Maynard agonized, “I hear King Robert grinned at the bodies of the children when presented to him under the throne,” the old man had a look of disgust on his face, “These actions are reprehensible and condemned in the eyes of the gods and pious men,”_ _accused the High Septon with rage, “I shall pray for the Stranger to make the death of those who took part in the murder to be slow and painful, for the Mother to grant them no mercy for they deserve none. And I shall pray to all Seven that young Aegon become a strong and kind King, to protect and guide him, so we could restore peace and order in the Realm.”_

They continued the journey after resting that night to the Kingsroad and all the way north to Winterfell.

The first time he held Robb in his arms, his wife asked him about the infant he brought with him. Ned remembers that moment very well. _He closed his eyes and told her “His name is Jon, he’s my son,” his eyelids fluttered open to see a shocked Catelyn in front of him, mouth agape, wide eyes staring at him._

_“Bu – thi—this can’t be, you are married to me,” she stuttered in her words._

_Ned felt guilty for hurting her like this, but he knew this was coming, and he made his decision. He didn’t answer, just looked her in the eyes._

_At his silence, her face flushed red the shade of her hair, and she clenched her fists, “You fathered a **bastard** with some whore, breaking your vows for me and now you bring him to my home!” she barked at him. “Send him away!”_

_“Don’t you ever dare speak of his mother with that manner again,” he will not have Lyanna spoken of with such words, not from his wife or anyone else. “It’s **MY** home, **MY** castle, and **MY** son’s place is beside me and nowhere else.”_

They didn’t speak to each other for a few moon turns after their first quarrel. “Time is best healer” Old Nan told him once, and she was true. They began talking again, getting to each other. Looking after Robb helped a lot; it was the only common thing between the two of them. They began to find common ground between them. They began to care for one another. Ned even built her a small sept inside the walls of Winterfell, near the Great Hall, and Ned wrote to High Septon Maynard, asking for a Septon who would respect the north religion and the Old Gods. The man was more than happy to carry out the request, sending a Septon called Chayle, and to Ned pleasure, Chayle grew up on the shores of the White Knife in the North.

Catelyn was beyond delighted when the construction of the sept was over.

But it seems there were things time couldn’t heal. Ned didn’t hear Catelyn insult Jon’s mother again or calling him ‘bastard’ in front of him. Once, they were in their bed, she asked about his mother. Ned looked at her hard to show how series he was, _“Never ask me about Jon, he is my blood, and that is all you need to know.”_ But she wouldn’t stop glaring at him or looking at him with hatred in cold blue eyes. Sometimes, when lords were visiting Winterfell, she would demand Jon being sat at the lower tables, justifying that sitting him at the high table would be taken as an insult to the guests. Ned would refuse and insist to sit Jon beside Robb.

_That is what Lyanna would wish for her son._

The only thing that was souring their marriage was his wife's hatred of Jon. Even now after seven years.

“I’m going to septa Mordane in the embroidering room,” Catelyn said, lips pursed in a thin line.

“Come Sansa.” Ned glanced at his daughter, her eyes lit up as if she was going to do the most exciting thing in the world.

Ned nodded his head. He looked over his shoulder to where Ethan was standing guard at the staircases. “Shall we go to them?” he said quietly.

After returning from the south, Ethan offered to stay at Winterfell and serve in Stark household and as a guard for Jon. The man was loyal and went through a lot of adversity with his family, he was strong and reliable. Ned accepted and appointed him as the captain of the guards to House Stark.

Down in the courtyard, he could hear Rodrik and Martyn talking to his sons, pointing their mistakes and how to correct them.

After Jon’s third name day, Ned decided it was time for the boys to begin their sword training.

Catelyn protested stating that Robb was too young, but he said he was old enough, and both boys were excited at the prospect.

A year later, the fruits of training and practice began to show. But to Ned’s surprise, the results were varying between the two boys. While Robb was learning to draw the sword from its scabbard, Jon was practicing the right stance to hold the sword and fight, once Robb got to that stage, Jon was getting closer to perfecting it and moving on the attack and defense steps. When he asked Ser Rodrik for the reason of disparity, specified that Jon expends more time with a sword in hands, _“my lord, if the boy got his way, he would wield until he faints. Sometimes I need to order him to finish training for the day and hand out the sword.”_

Catelyn accused Jon of stealing the time and attention of the master of arms from Robb. Ned glared at her and was ready to lash at her when Martyn stepped forward suggesting taking over Jon’s training.

Ned then tried to pay more attention to his children's lessons, the ones in the yards or the other with maester Luwin. Ned found that Jon focused not only on swordplay but also in lessons with Luwin or other tutors.

It became a normal thing seeing Jon in the courtyard with Martyn or in front of training hay or wooden dummy, in the library reading a book until the late-night hours.

The two boys were of the same age and grow up with each other, but they did not look alike. While Robb was playful and loud, broad and fair, Jon was dark and quiet, solemn, and guarded; he was graceful, quick with a lean build. Ned would find him sometimes brood while staring at nothing. They say prince Rhaegar was like that when he was alive, solemn and some considered him melancholic. He dreaded the day his nephew reaches adulthood. 

“Father!” Robb exclaimed, was the first to notice him. 

Jon smiled when his gaze landed on him.

“My strong boys!” Ned said laughing and ruffled their heir when he reached them.

“Father, is it true that the Lord Commander of The Night’s Watch is coming to Winterfell?” Robb babbled in excitement.

“Who told you that?” Ned asked.

“I heard two of the guards talking about it while I was running with Jon,” _of course you will hear_ , he thought shaking his head, sometimes guards talk more than they should.

“Is uncle Benjen coming with the Lord Commander?” Jon asked with a voice full of hope. The lad loved Benjen and waited for every visit keenly.

“I don’t know,” he answered and saw the disappointment in Jon’s face. “But Lord Qorgyle didn’t state who was traveling with him, maybe he’s coming,” he offered hoping that would bring him back hope.

“Now, shouldn’t you go to master Luwin? You wouldn’t want him to punish you for being late, would you?” 

Jon and Robb shared a horrified look and run toward the maester’s turret, Alyn and Jory running after them with Liam watching from afar.

“They are getting better every day, my lord. They will honor the Stark name,” Rodrik said puffing his chest in pride.

“You have to thank me and Jon for that, without Jon, Robb would have wasted his time,” Martyn teased his brother.

“The boy has potential and he is working hard to hone his skills,” said Rodrik.

 _Lyanna You would have been proud of him_ , Ned thought looking at the direction in which the boys ran.

**______________________________________**

Jon thanked the old gods they weren’t late, though he enjoyed books and the library, he didn’t want to have any part in copying books or recording reports. He's been punished like that once, and won't wish to repeat it, he'd rather clean the horse stables.

At first, maester Luwin investigated the history of other great houses of Westeros with them. Jon memorized his lessons well, all of them. But he didn’t care much for the southern houses. As great as they claim they are, none of them took root and deepened in Westeros as his family did, not like House Stark.

None of them could withstand the invasion of the Andals; each of them recoiled on their heels in one way or another, thus abandoning their traditions, ways, and gods.

He respected those who fought until the bitter end. King Tristifer Mudd who was said fought one hundred battles and died in the last one, Lord Darry and his three brave sons, the old StormKings who allied with Children of the Forest against the Andals warlords.

Nevertheless, they lost. 

But not the Starks. The Kings of Winter vanquished the invaders who came to their doorsteps over and over again; hundreds of armies broke in the Neck. Theon Stark, the Hungry Wolf, beheaded those Andals warlords, hanging them from the imposing towers of Moat Cailin and putting their heads on spears on his ships, and conquered their homeland in Essos. King Theon also battled against the Ironborn, driving them away from Cape Kraken and Bear Island and slaying Ravos Hoare. Jon considered him one of his heroes and the greatest King of Winter aside from Brandon the Builder and King Torrhen Stark. He's never tired of his stories.

Jon finished many books, such as **_A Consideration of History_** written by Archmaester Perestan and **_True History_** which are books talks about the Age of Dawn, Age of Heroes, and The Long Night as well as the Andals invasion and their wars with the North, **_The Edge of the World_** , and many others.

Since the day Jon began reading at the age of two, he rarely spent a day without holding a book. His father told him that he began reading shortly after his second name day, before his older brother Robb or anyone else his father knew, and Jon takes great pride in himself for that.

Jon liked to read books contains adventures and fascinating stories about the land beyond the wall or on other continents, Essos, Sothoryos, like **_The Nine Voyages_** by Maester Mathis which describes the nine expeditions Corlys Velaryon made on the Sea Snake to Essos.

But it was Valyria and its dragons that Jon loved the most. To read about something so magical. He would exhaust himself into the late hours of the night reading those. Unfortunately, there weren’t many books that specialize and discuss these topics in Winterfell’s library, but he will ask master Luwin if he got any of those books.

Today maester Luwin was teaching them High Valyrian, much to Robb's dismay; he knew his brother would prefer to have the maester educating them in sums or stars. But Jon thought Valyrian is a beautiful language, whenever he spoke or read High Valyrian; it feels as the words flow on his tongue, Soft, supple, harmonious letters, and phrases that meanings are almost reflected in the chimes of words.

He hoped one day he could be fluent in High Valyrian. It’s not easy, not even maester Luwin speak it smoothly and he’s one of the few who study the higher mysteries and got a Valyrian steel link. But the maester told him the secret is to not think much before uttering the words, “ _don’t struggle with the words,”_ he advised Jon.

He looked at his brother and found him dozing while he was sitting. Jon giggled, he tried to mute the sound by putting his hand over his mouth, but it was too late.

“Robb,” maester Luwin called for his brother, raising his eyebrow when Robb looked confused why his name was called. It only caused Jon to laugh more loudly.

“Apparently, you were taking a nap while I was elucidating your brother,” Luwin explained to perplex Robb. “Can you tell me the last thing I said?” the maester asked. Robb opened his mouth and closed it and then shrugged his shoulder. “I thought so,” he sighed.

“We’re done today, you may go,” he dismissed them.

Robb shout up from his seat heading for the door, but stopped and turned when he didn’t find Jon by his side.

“Go, I’ll follow you shortly,” Jon assured him. Robb hesitated for a moment, then nodded and exited the room.

“Master, can I ask for something?” He queried nervously.

Maester Luwin looked at him narrowing his eyes curiously, “you can, Jon.”

“Do you have books about Valyria or dragons in your personal library?”

The maester seemed surprised by his question, but then he smiled softly, “Why asking me and not the librarian?” Luwin inquired, amused.

“I’ve already pored over what I found there, some books twice, but they all say the same thing, just crusts,” Jon answered.

“I may have one or two that you won’t find Winterfell’s library,” Jon was filled with hope. “But,” and his shoulders slumped, “you will have to promise me you’ll not tell anyone about it.”

“I promise,” Jon beamed.

Maester Luwin nodded and shoved his hand in his voluminous sleeve and draw a key from one of the sewn pockets. He went through the room, seem to look for a certain drawer in one of the many wooden cabinets. The room is always disorderly, but somehow, the old maester finds what he was looking for, as he did this time.

He held a dark brown book-shaped leather bag, closed with two leather ties in a metal ring at the lowest part of the bag. He untied the ties and then pulled out a book with an ivory cover, painted in the middle of it a three-headed dragon; enclose each other in a ring.

“This is _**Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns: Their Unnatural History** ,_ written by Septon Barth, who was a close counselor to King Jaehaerys I Targaryen,” Luwin declared.

Jon gasped when he heard the title of the book.

“King Baelor I ordered the book to be destroyed, but there were some copies out of his reach. There is a few of it now,” the maester said.

“Why would he do that?” Jon asked.

“Because my dare boy, men with power can do foolish things without being questioned.” Luwin asserted.

“Now go” the maester butted him on his shoulder, “and keep it save.”

Jon walked to his room thinking about all he could find in the book. He opened the book to look on a page curiously and his breath went out of him. There was a drawing of a dragon standing in front of him someone wearing a crown, the man looked very small compared to the dragon’s head.

‘ ** _Vermithor and King Jaehaerys Targaryen’_ **was written at the head of the page.

Jon put the book in the trunk and closed it; he locked his room the run to find Robb.

**______________________________________**

Jon was disappointed that his uncle didn’t come with the Lord Commander.

He loved his uncle Benjen, he would tell him stories of the land beyond the wall, of the Weirwood trees there, and how some were huge, even bigger than the one in Winterfell. Of his ranging missions and fighting the wildlings or the giant, or about the direwolves packs and their howling in the night. Jon expected someday, Benjen will tell him they found the White Walkers and the Others, so Old Nan stories come true.

“Jon, you are throwing overhand cuts, keep your mind in the fight,” Ser Martyn pointed out to him, “Take your stance again.”

Jon backed and they began again. Without doubt, he was no match to Ser Martyn, as far as he knew, there was no one in Winterfell who could keep up with Martyn Castel, the only one to stand chance was his father Lord Eddard.

Across from them, he could see Robb and Ser Rodrik Castel. The two Cassel brothers were different from one another. The older, Rodrik, has little dull gray hair at his age; he has large white whiskers which he impulsively tugs at and a soft flesh under his chin. He doesn’t approve of men being singers or being engaged in music and entertainment fields. He always says _“The only way a man could prove his worth is by his swordsmanship.”_ Which is a bit extremist in Jon's opinion.

On the other hand, the younger brother Martyn was thinner and taller than Rodrik, he has short light brown hair and a closely-trimmed beard, his hair is beginning to grey. He often worse a smile on his face. _Something is hard to get from Ser Rodrik,_ thought Jon.

Ser Martyn is very kind to Jon, he knew not why, only that he was with his father when he brought him to Winterfell.

Though they are both knights and skilled with swords, they don’t have an interest in tourneys.

It ended up as the one before it, his sword out of his hand.

“Again.”

He picked up his sword and got to position but held the sword closer to his right shoulder, putting the left foot ahead. Sweat trickled icily down Jon’s chest. He closed his eyes, imagining how he could make it longer or even try and win, he may be smaller than the man before him, but he could use that.

He waited until Ser Martyn came on him swinging his sword at Jon’s left side, he parried quickly, another one from the other side, but Jon blocked it. Jon gritted his teeth and tightened his hand. He took a step back before the third came on him. They were moving back and forth, Jon still holding the sword closer.

Ser Martyn brought his sword down at Jon and he parried it bringing the sword from below with all his strength, sending the other sword as high as he could, Jon went underneath Martyn’s arms and landed the flat side at his right knee. Martyn groaned and swept at Jon’s back, but the boy’s sword was already halfway to his arm, when the blade slammed Martyn’s elbow his sword fell to the ground.

Jon was pointing his sword at the man’s neck.

“I yield,” Martyn said, clutching his elbow and groaned in pain. “Seven hells boy! It hurts!”

“I know,” Jon grinned cheekily and lowered his sword.

“You know? And how exactly?”

“From some book in the library and I tried it on myself, but the hit was lighter,” Jon answered. 

“That was good. Very good actually, you and your books!” Martyn muttered, “Now take your position and swing at the dummy," Jon's smile fell. He would prefer a moving opponent to a dummy that does nothing. "Forget training with me for the rest of the day. And don’t go bragging about it,” he teased Jon.

“I will not,” Jon retorted, offended. 

He didn’t find anything to do after he finished training, not that he could learn much against a dummy, so he was currently reading a book in the library tower, reading ‘The ** _Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms, With Descriptions of Many High Lords and Noble Ladies and Their Children’_** a boring book, but maester Luwin insisted on reading it.

Septon Chayle wasn’t in the library tower as usual; he spends more time as a librarian than the guardian of the sept. When the man came, Jon expected him to look with hatred and disgust at the ‘ _Bastard of Winterfell’_ as septa Mordane calls him. More than once he heard the ‘ _prunes septa’_ talk malevolently about him _“They are evil and greedy creatures created from lust and betrayal so that the gods hate them and don't bless them.”_ she would say. Jon wanted to tell her that he hated her as much or more than she hates him.

But to Jon’s surprise, the man treated him well, he would talk and cheer Jon when he’s upset, or help him find books in the tower's wide and high shelves. He even tried to invite Jon to the sept to lit candles or pray to the New Gods. Though Jon would refuse every time stating that he was a faithful follower to the Old Gods, the gods of his ancestors, Chayle still perseveres every time with endless patience.

After an hour or so, there was a strident-door sound; Jon looked up to see a boy wearing a blue and mud red outfit with a leaping silver trout and a martlet on a gambeson and the cloak with the same color over his shoulder. _A Tully guard from house Grell_ , Jon remembered the sigil.

Robb had told him that a squire came from Riverrun to Lady Catelyn with a message and a gift from her brother. That was a few days ago, he thought they were gone by now. _Apparently not_.

The boy was older than twelve name days, which was obvious to Jon by the look of him. He observed the library searching for something, when he spotted Jon he grimaced with disgust, and then he smiled wickedly.

“What are you doing here bastard? A library is no place for the like of you, you'll make the gods curse the place with your presence.” he sneered.

Jon sigh, he wasn’t used to people calling him that way, but he knew what he was, there was nothing to say that would bring benefits. He shut the book in his hand and got up from his seat, it’s going to be annoying with people like that, and he isn’t going to give this fool his stratification.

“I’m askin’ you a question, bastard!” The fool bellowed at him.

Jon kept ignoring him; he'll bring the book master Luwin gave him, and go to a quiet place where no one will interrupt him, maybe the Godswood. Jon smiled to himself, _the perfect place._

When he was at the door, the Grell boy grabbed his arm, “I asked you, bastard! Answer me!” he shouted again.

Jon snatched his arm free and glared at the boy.

He had his wicked smile again “Didn’t’ your whore of a mother teach you manners, bastard? Oh, she abandoned you? Whores alwa---

Jon’s ears filled with that noise again. The boy didn’t finish his words; Jon dropped the book from his hand and lunged at him with his fists. _How dare he speak about my mother!_

The first punch hit the boy’s jaw knocking him to the ground; he jumped at the fallen boy with a cry, growling with every hit from his hand. It was this feeling again, consuming him, this feeling surrounds him from everywhere, pulls him deeper and deeper with every moment with no end, he can feel his heartbeat clearly, blood running through his veins, the tinnitus noise in his ears, growing higher as if someone was screaming and hissing inside his head, his eye only sees the offending boy below him. 

Everything felt sluggish as if it was years, but at some point there was a strong set of hands pulling him, lifting him from the boy. The voices started coming again; he could hear people arguing, yelling voices, the sound of the abrading swords against its scabbards.

“J---, ---n, Jon,” the call was fading as it was from far, far away.

“JON!” He gazed aghast at Ser Martyn. “Jon are you all right?”

He looked around him, there were Tully guards holding the boy from his arms, his face was all red and swollen, blood dripping from his mouth and nose. Jon has a sweet feeling washing over him as if he was carrying a mountain across his shoulders, and that mountain was blown up in the wind, he felt relieved.

“Put your swords down, I won’t say it again!” Jory ordered the Tully guards.

“We want the bastard,” said the Tully captain.

“Have you no shame? Raising your swords on a seven years boy!” Jory roared.

“Lord Stark will see to this matter. Now hand over your weapons, I don’t wish to shed blood today,” warned Ser Rodrik with a ton that left no room for arguing.

The Captain of Tully guards swallowed hard and threw his sword to the floor.

Martyn lowered Jon to his feet and examined him. “Are you hurt Jon?”

Jon felt every part of him throbbing, breath coming hard, his hands numb, but there was nothing else. He shook his head no.

The man’s shoulders sagged, and he relaxed a little. “Can you walk?” he asked him. Jon’s body was shaking, he could collapse at any moment, but he gritted his teeth, he was the blood of the First Men, of the Kings of Winter, he wouldn’t be carried around like a babe. He nodded.

“Then come, let's go to your father.”

**______________________________________**

Ned was in his solar reading scrolls, some from King’s Landing, and some from his lords. Jon Arryn was complaining to him of Robert’s behavior, saying he was spending the coins without a second thought, so much so that they had to enter loan negotiations from the Lannister.

As far as Ned knew, the Iron Throne’s treasury was overflowing with gold. Aerys may have been mad, but he knew how important gold was and how to save it. _Aberrantly Robert was trying to rival Aerys in another kind of madness._

Jon wished that Ned could convince Robert to spend gold more wisely and to give more mind to the King’s duties.

But Ned had nothing to say to Robert Baratheon, he can only offer sympathy for Jon and his desperate attempts.

Other scrolls reported seeing Iron Islands sails near The Flint Clifts even north of The Stony Shore. This was distrusting and it was what occupied Ned’s mind at the time. Nothing was heard about the Ironborn since the Rebellion. Sometimes Ned wished that Lord Quellon Greyjoy didn’t die in the Rebellion, that he was still alive and succeeded in his quest to end their old ways. The man had some honor in him, something that most Ironborn are lacking.

There was a knock on the door, Ned allowed the guard entrance to see Ethan followed by Martyn and blooded hands Jon. Ned promptly stood from his chair and rushed to his son.

He knelt so he was on the same level with Jon, “Jon are you all right? Are you hurt?” he asked searching for any injuries other than his hand, and looked his son in the face when he found none.

Jon just shook his head.

Ned lifted his eyes to Martyn, “What happened exactly?”

“I don’t know. I was with Rodrik in the yard when I heard sounds from the library tower doors. We found Jon on a Tully guard boy. The boy is unconscious and with the other Tully guards” Martyn answered.

Ned held his son’s red-stained hands; the boy was shaking as if he was freezing. “Send for maester Luwin,” he ordered.

“We already did. He should be in his way.”

Ned got up and brought a chair, he placed Jon on it, and he went to his knee again and raised Jon’s chin to gaze him in the eyes, “What happened Jon?”

Jon looked around the room; he swallowed hard as if he wanted to cry but tried to stop himself. His eyes looked upon Ned’s again.

“I was reading in the library when he came, he called me 'bastard' and asked what a bastard was doing with books, alleging that I will bring a curse on the place” Ned was angry and perplexed, the guard boy was bullying his son inside the walls of his own castle. But Jon wouldn’t make a fight because someone called him ‘bastard’.

“I ignored him, closed the book, and was at the doors when he grabbed my arm. I pulled my arm, then he called my mother…” Jon bit his lip. “He called my mother a whore,” Ned could see the fire raging behind the boy’s dark orbs.

Jon didn’t look like a Targaryen, but it seems he was one from the inside.

Suddenly Catelyn came into the room her face red, “Ned, What is the meaning of this? Why your boy attacked Myles? The boy’s head is bleeding; my brother is not going to turn a blind eye to this.”

“Your brother’s squire provoked my son, insulted him and his mother,” hissed at her, and her eyes went wide. “Now my lady, ask your brother's party to leave my castle walls before nightfall. I will not have them for another night. And if your brother has anything to say, I will be happy to receive him in Winterfell.”

Catelyn courtesies and went out of the room.

Maester Luwin arrived with shallow breath, the man looked worried, “My lord there is a raven from King’s Landing and another from Flint’s Finger,” he handed Ned the scrolls and began tending to Jon’s hand.

Ned frowned at the golden-crowned stage seal. _It’s not from Jon then._

He broke the seal and unrolled the parchment in his hands. His fears came true.

_To Lord Eddard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Protector of the North_

_In response to Balon Greyjoy declaration of kingship and burning Lannisport and Lannister’s fleet, King Robert of House Baratheon, first of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, calles for all loyal lords to raise their banners and ride to defeat the rebellious and restore the King’s peace._

The other scroll from Lord Flint reported Ironborn raids upon the Stony Shore and asking for aid. _Calamities don't come individually._

“How are Jon’s hands, maester?” he asked.

“Just surface wounds, but nothing with the bones. I suggest some rest days from sword drills,” Luwin answered. “Maybe Jon can help me in the tower these days?” he said earning a small smile from Jon.

Ned took his son’s face in his hand, “There are urgent matters I need to discuss with maester Luwin and Ser Martyn, but we will talk later.” He looked up, “Jory, Alyn, escort Jon and keep guard with him at all times.”

“As you command, my Lord.”

When the door closed, He looked at the men in the room. “Balon Greyjoy declared independence from the Iron Throne and burned Lannisport with the Lannister fleet.”

“Good, good, they deserve more,” Martyn laughed.

Ned shook his head, “Not good at all, Martyn. Robert called for the banners.”

“Well, we have another rebellion, only this time we’re fighting with the Iron Throne,” said Ethan.

“Maester Luwin, send for our banners. Winterfell will be a gathering point, and we'll march west within a moon turn.”

“Yes, my lord. If I may ask who will rule from Winterfell while you fight?”

“Where is Ser Rodrik?”

“He was keeping watch on the Tully guards,” said Martyn.

“Ser Rodrik will act as castellan. Martyn, Ethan, you are riding with me.”

Luwin nodded and left the room. Ned looked at his friends, “Ethan, Send Liam to them. It’s past time they come for him.”

“Are you sure of that, Ned?” Ethan asked anxiety plain on his face.

“Yes, seven years is enough time, and they will hide their true identities. And with the banners coming, no one will question who they are. They're going to mix with the crowd. But he’s growing fast, and his temper is growing with him, he needs more protection,” he explained.

At that, Martyn laughed again. “You had to see him upon that boy, Ned. A dragon indeed!”

“Martyn,” Ned warned, “walls have ears.”

“I’m sorry, I got carried away. She would have been proud of him, Ned.”

“I know,” he smiled softly.

Ethan was gazing at the North map hanging on the wall. “If we had a fleet on our western coasts,” he said remorsefully.

It was something even his father thought about, but there wasn’t enough gold in Winterfell treasury and House Mormont weren’t rich, they barely had what keep them alive.

“There's no point in crying over spilled milk,” Ned said.

“Martyn, your son isn’t coming with us,” he looked at him bewildered, “he’ll be needed somewhere else.”

“I’m going to see Jon,” he left the room with his friend in his heels.

**______________________________________**

Robb was sprinting to Jon’s room. After he found out what happened, he feared that Jon had been hurt, and he began cursing himself because he wasn't there. He saw Myles when he brought his mother the gifts; he was older than them, much taller and stronger. But hearing the guards talking and laughing about what Jon did to the boy, he breathed in relief.

Looks like Jon knocked the boy out and hit him all over his head. Robb grinned; _this is my brother, a fierce wolf._ Other people may think Jon meek and unable to do anything, but he knows better than that. He and Jon were together since they were mare infants, ever since they were aware of what's going on around them. They knew everything about each other, there were no secrets.

He was the funny and playful one, the mastermind behind pranks and mischiefs, while his brother was the quiet, sober one, the boy who can’t flirt with girls, who sits in the corner of the hall at feasts watching everyone or nothing. But it’s better not to do something that provokes him or angers him, he and Jon share almost everything, but Robb doesn't dare take a toy from Jon’s for himself.

He knocked at Jon’s door. He didn’t have to wait for long before his brother opened the door. He quickly took Jon in a hug. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

They broke away and saw the bandage around Jon’s hands, “Does it hurt?”

“Just a little,” Jon answered with a small smile.

Robb thought of anything to raise his brother's spirit. An idea came to him. He pulled Jon’s left arm, “come it’s snowing heavily, the snow must have clumped.”

They run out of the Great Keep and up the stairway to the wall separating the Main Courtyard from the Great Hall and the sept yard. They began building a castle from the snow. They agreed to build Storm’s End with Jon’s instruction and him doing the work since Jon read about it before and even saw a drawing in a book, and because of his hand’s bandages.

After they finished what was meant to be Storm’s End ended up like the ruins of Harrenhal, but both boys were pleased with their work and jumped in triumph.

Looking from the wall, Robb saw Fat Tom and Desmond approaching from the direction of the Guards Hall and Robb smiled wickedly. He whispered in Jon’s ear and both got to work again.

By the time the two guards reached the wall, there was a mountain of snow up the battlement. When their father’s men were below the mountain, Robb and Jon pushed the snow on the heads of the two guards and laughed loudly at both men's shrieking sound.

“You brats! Come here now!” howled Fat Tom

Robb and Jon were about to run when they saw a man dressed in black standing at the stairway. _A brother of the Night’s Watch_ , they realized.

To their surprise, the man shushed them and pointed at the fastest way down. “I will not tell anyone. I promise,” he smiled.

Both smiled at him and sprinted away, Fat Tom gave chase. Tom chased the youths around until all three were red-faced from running and laughing. 

**______________________________________**

It was the feast before his father marched with his host to the war with the Iron Islands. Jon was excited when he heard the news. He and Robb begged their father to take them with him, but his father refused sternly. _“Wars and battle is no place for boys, when you grow older you will wish you could stay at your home in peace”_ he asserted.

So he was seated beside Robb at the high table. They were not allowed to have wine or even watered; Eddard Stark was strict when it came to such things. With time, he got bored, there was nothing to do, but he was curious about his father’s lord, the heads of the houses sworn to House Stark. So he decided to move to the end of the table where he could get a good look at the men below.

From all the lords in the Great Hall, there were two who captured Jon’s attention the most. Almost every lord was laughing or drinking madly except for those two.

The first was Lord Wyman Manderly. He was fat, even more than Fat Tom who was the fattest man Jon had ever seen. _Not anymore, there's a competition for the title_. 

He wears a velvet blue-green doublet embroidered with golden thread. A golden trident pins his mantle to his shoulder. The lord eats a lot, and enjoys the food served to him, Jon noticed. He laughed, drank ale and wine, not as much as the other lords. But by the Old Gods, his laugh was a booming laugh that echoes through the Great Hall as if there was a dragon roaring!

Nonetheless, there are times when he wasn’t laughing or drinking, in those times he would look around at the other lords and Jon’s father. His gaze wasn’t like the others, as if he was contemplating on their actions, or trying to listen to their conversations. But he wouldn’t linger until he laughs again. _He is searching for something and doesn’t want others to know he does_.

Jon studied him for a long time, and when their eyes met, he looked at Jon at length and then smiled and nodded his head.

The other lord was Lord Roose Bolton. The man has a plain face, beardless and ordinary, with his only noticeable feature being his strange eyes, paler than stone and darker than milk, like two white moons. _Except Jon relished in gazing at the moon, but not these eyes._

He has a pale pink cloak over his shoulder. The lord of the Dreadfort barely ate something; he just set in his bench and sipped his win, staring at the men in the hall, those who talked to his father, or those who set in silence. Any man did odd act in the feast, lord Roose looked at him. He didn’t talk much himself.

But his gaze was different than lord Wyman's ones. Jon stared at him and thought of Old Nan’s tales, of the Red Kings. They were Starks's sworn enemies since the times they were kings, and after they bent their knees, they took every opportunity to betray his family, they burned Winterfell and killed many Starks. _They have a room in the Dreadfort, where the Boltons hang the skins of their enemies_ , Jon recalled.

There was something that sent a shiver down Jon’s spine and made him uncomfortable. _I will tell father after the feast_.

**______________________________________**

Ned breathed deeply when he got up from his seat at the head table. He looked around and found Jon in one of his brooding sessions at the end of the table. He moved to him and smiled when Jon noticed him.

He held his goblet out and whispered, “do you want some?” he offered.

Jon’s eyes widened in shock and Ned knew why. He never allowed them to drink win even if some lords permit their sons at a younger age. But he left only a little and added much water to it.

“Really?” Jon asked in disbelieve.

“Yes, but don't tell Robb,” he winked and earned a giggle from Jon.

“I was going to a ride tomorrow in the Wolfswood, would you like to accompany me?” Ned asked.

Jon choked while drinking. “Easy, easy. No one is going after you,” Ned laughed.

“Yes, of course, I want to go!” Jon answered, thrilled.

“Good, make sure your horse is ready after your first training,” he told his son.

After Jon finished his watered win, Ned bid him goodnight and went to his own bed.

**______________________________________**

They set forth after he finished the first session. His breath was steaming in the cold morning air. They were seven in the beginning, but at some point, he and his father rode alone. He looked at his father; he was quiet and solemn as if he was in deep thought.

Jon was confused and didn't know where his father was taking them. The road started to slope a little bit, and a few minutes later the tree cover started to go down, there was a burbles water sound from afar.

Suddenly the trees were blown up and Jon's breath hitched. In front of him was the most beautiful view he ever saw.

There were no trees in front of him. Along his gaze, there were green hills covered with summer snow. In the middle of those hills was a large waterfall. The waterfall was not high but it was wide, with some water freezing like crystal spears and with the water running down, floundering with rocks and saba in the small lake. The scene was breather taking.

He was bought back from his meditating by his father’s voice, “Beautiful, isn’t it,” he asked.

Jon just nodded, still astounded. No one could have said otherwise.

“I used to come here with your m--- your aunt Lyanna when we were young,” his father said with a sad smile on his face. “She was the one who found this place first.”

“You never talk about her,” Jon muttered.

“Because it only brings sadness, and I don’t want to make my children sad.” It was the first time Jon saw Ned Stark so sorrowful and broken.

“Is that why you don’t speak about my mother? Does it also make you sad?” Jon didn’t know anything about his mother, aside from that she’s dead.

His father looked surprised by his question, but his calm face returned again. “Yes, your mother's death has caused me the greatest sadness of my life. She was the greatest thing I ever lost.”

“You loved her?” he said, more a statement than a question.

“Aye, more than anyone.”

“Did she love me?” he asked his voice wavering and eyes burning.

“With all her heart. She made me promise her to protect you and care for you before she died.” There was a tear on his father’s face.

Jon broke then, a strangled cry escaped his throat. His father enveloped him in his big arms. “ _There is no shame to cry in front of me”_ his father whispered while he stroked his back, and Jon buried his face in his father’s shoulder and sobbed freely.

After some time, when he stopped crying, and his tears dried. His father stood and tagged him to follow.

“I want to tell you something. I made a decision on an important matter after what happened with the Tully boy,” he looked at his father confused. “I decided to make you travel through the North."

Jon looked at him aghast and felt tears returning to him again. “As—a—a banishment for what I did?”

“What— no, of course not! I would never banish you for defending your mother’s honor,” he took Jon’s face in his hand, wiping his tears with his thumb. “Do you understand me? I would never banish you away from me,” He assured him.

He nodded, relieved.

“Then why?” he asked.

“Tell me, Jon, why do you train so hard? Why read all these books? Why holding the sword all those times and straining yourself?”

He hesitated but decided to tell the truth. He straightened his back and looked his father in the eye, “Because I want to be someone worthy of our family's blood, even if I don't carry your name,” he said. “Reading about all those kings and lord of House Stark and their deeds… I felt proud to carry the same blood that flowed through their veins and wanted to be fit and honor their memory.”

His father looked at him strangely for a moment, but then he smiled widely, he reached out and ruffled Jon’s hair, “No matter what happens, remember that you are my son, my blood, A Stark in the core even if people called you differently. Don't let anyone underestimate you,” he pointed at Jon’s heart, “save those words here,” he tabbed at his heart. 

They sat on a rock near the waterfall and gazed at the water. “To answer your question, I want you to see the North and its people. The North is the widest of the Seven Kingdoms, there are a lot of types of people. I want you to know them and to really know the North as I did and my siblings with me,” his father answered.

“Why?”

“You’ll understand when you grow up,” he stated simply.

Jon looked at him, “I will make you proud, father,” he said determinedly.

“I know you will,” he said beaming at him.

“Did you see the men who came with us to the woods?”

Jon nodded.

“These men were old friends to me from the Rebellion days; they will accompany you through your travel.” Jon’s eyes lit up.

“You mean they fought with you?”

His father paused. “No. But we are on the same side. They will take over your training and keep you safe with their lives.”

“They are good fighters?”

“Very good. They may be better than me,” Jon’s mouth fell at that. His father was one of the best in the realm, all Winterfell knew that. They say he defeated Ser Arthur Dayne, The Sword of the Morning. “I’m certain you will learn a lot from them.”

Jon hoped so.

He remembered a thing from the feast. “Father?” he hammed at him. “There is something I need to tell you.” He looked at Jon curiously. “At the feast yesterday, there were two lords acting strangely.”

Ned frowned, “Who do you mean?”

“Lord Wyman Manderly and Lord Roose Bolton. But it’s Lord Bolton who got my attention even more. He barely talked or ate; he just drank his win and stared at you and other lords. His gaze was even different from lord Wyman ones. All lords seemed genuine at their happiness to be with you, except him. He scares me,” Jon admitted.

Ned narrowed his eyes and looked at those dark eyes of his son, “You don’t miss much, do you, Jon?” Jon grinned. “I will tell you something but don’t tell anyone”

“I promise”

“I don’t trust Lord Bolton. I don’t trust any Bolton, and you better do the same. But Lord Wyman is a loyal man to House Stark. _The North Remembers_ and House Manderly remembers who welcomed them and gave them shelter, and they would do the same to us if need be.”

“Lord Wyman is acting as he does on purpose, to mislead fools. Seems my son is too smart to discover that.”

Before Jon knew, his father pulled him to his lap and began tickling him. Both father’s and son’s laughter echoed through the hills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think?
> 
> I wanted to show those who didn't read the books a face of Jon's there. unlike in Got, in the books Jon is confident and some say arrogant. He's not arrogant but he uses his mind and what he learned in Winterfell. He's a great strategy as much as Robb or even more. He put all Stannis knights, lords, and Stannis himself to shame when Stannis showed him his plans and made a plan that would have guaranteed a win for Stannis if he had followed her.
> 
> Actually, he gets angry very much that he didn't care for his vows more than once.
> 
> Unlike what many think, Jon and Robb were very close. Robb wanted to free Jon of his vows no matter the cost and argued with his mother and forbid her from interfering with his decisions when he released Jon from the vows and made him Jon Stark and declared him his hair.  
> on the other hand, Jon said if he could have a child, he would name him "Robb". There wasn't the shit we saw in Got about "Jon being jealous of Robb because he was better than him in everything" there were things Jon is better with (swords-riding) while Robb (Archery-lance). Unfortunately, the TV series showed Jon with no feelings for a lot of important things. 
> 
> One of the things Got couldn't show, is inner thoughts. Internal thoughts or a character's personal words with himself are a blessing that only those who read books know. Even dreary and serious Jon can cut your breath off from laughter sometimes :)
> 
> I hope everyone could understand why Jon's characters changed. Books are the keys to many changes in one's life.
> 
> I think writing the scroll was a bad idea! :)  
> Tell me about your impressions, questions, and suggestions in the comments. anyone knew who was the Night's Watch brother?  
> My Tumblr: https://seijuroraizel.tumblr.com/  
> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think?  
> I know it wasn't that eventful chapter, but I wanted to show the emotional storm inside Ned after what happened to his family and after what he saw in the cursed city of King's landing. who is alive and who died...  
> The original plan was to stick to the books canon as much as possible, then I began writing and almost everything is different.  
> No one knows how Ned found Lyanna. Some say it was Varys, but I don't agree. We know what Varys wants and Jon is the biggest pitfall in his way, he'd have killed him had he knew about him. Some say it was a Tyrell soldier, but it's just ridiculous.  
> I believe it was from the Kingsguard he knew, and I think Arthur is still alive. Maybe we will see him in TWOW.
> 
> I promise the next chapter is totally different than the original canon.  
> It will be Jon pov with some Net at the beginning. 
> 
> I tried to write about Dark Sister as best as I could, it wasn't depicted as Blackfyre was. the image in the end is probably the closest to the truth. 
> 
> Any constructive comment or criticism is welcome. If you have a suggestion or a question, write it in the comments and I'll answer.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
